Complicated
by wayofthepen
Summary: Hitsugaya wanders in on Matsumoto while she's napping, and steals a moment of affection he can't show in public. Hitsugaya has been stressed lately, so Masumoto sets the scene for a moment of privacy between them. one event, two points of view. HitsuxMats
1. Chapter 1

"MATSUMOTO!"

His lieutenant's only reaction to his shout was to smile and turn away from him. He had walked into her office and found her sprawled out on a couch, napping peacefully, the stack of unfinished paperwork standing proudly on her desk, a testament to her uncanny talent for slacking off. Hitsugaya picked up an empty sake bottle and dropped it in the trash before returning to her side, sitting down next to her on the couch, putting a hand on her shoulder and gently pulling her flat. She wouldn't be doing any paperwork anytime soon.

But then, this meant he had caught her when she was fast asleep. No chance of him waking her up. Taking a deep breath and making sure no-one was around, he reached a hand out.

Contrary to popular taunts, he **had **hit puberty just as he was given the captain's position, knew all about men and women (certainly more then those morons from 11th squad who loved to make fun of him) and was, in fact, completely infatuated with his beautiful, full-chested lieutenant.

He carefully ran his fingers through her hair, moving it away so it didn't obstruct his view of her face.

It was her fault, after all. He had **told **her, time and again, to pull her kimono shut when they were working, to stop hugging him (at least in ways that didn't involve his face being crammed between those wonderful breasts of hers) and to address him with the proper rank, or at least the right honorifics.

The fingers traced the outline of her jaw and trailed down her neck, picking out the threads of surprisingly tough muscle underneath perfectly smooth skin.

But he had gotten used to it. He even started to like it. And then, one day, a part of his brain had just clicked on and demanded that he reach out and grab the things she kept waving in his face. He ignored it, of course, and had considered dismissing her from the 10th squad entirely when it started to become a distraction. But she had kept her rank, and it had nothing to do with her appearance. She kept herself in top form, she was completely trustworthy and reliable (for anything besides paperwork, which he secretly hated as well) and when he gave her an order, she got it **done. **So he ignored the voices and the urges, and tried to think of her strictly as his very able lieutenant, focusing on the fact that it would be an incredible chore to find someone to replace her, and nothing more.

Cool fingers traced her collarbone, back and forth, gliding back behind her neck, dipping to feel the muscles in her shoulders. Returning to her chest, the fingers beginning to trail lower, pausing, returning upwards, a palm flattening against her cheek, his thumb brushing her lips.

He wasn't even sure if she would be interested if him, with the age difference. Not to mention the fact she was his subordinate, after all. There were enough offensive rumors floating around about her, about how she got her rank or why a captain like him insisted on keeping around someone like her.

Once again, the hand went lower, his thumb catching on her collarbone and refusing to go any further, his palm flat on her skin, fingers tensing and rubbing gently. Matsumoto shivered slightly, and he jerked his hand away.

He'd be damned if he ever said he didn't want to explore the rest of her properly, thoroughly, but not like this. Not taking advantage of her when she was in a sake-induced slumber. He would never allow himself to go that far. Just these few, precious, _maddening_ stolen moments, opportunities he just couldn't ignore, and something he regretted doing enough as it was.

So he stood and walked mechanically to her desk, sitting heavily in her chair. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, a long, slow, shuddering sigh sounding throughout the room.

He reached for the first piece of paper, and with one last, longing look, picked up a pen and set to work. He owed her this much for what he'd taken to doing recently.

And once he was completely engrossed in numbers and figures and pages of useless ramblings, focusing on nothing but the scratching of quill on paper, Hitsugaya Toushiro never noticed his obsession open one eye to peek at him. He only looked up a moment later when she shifted, turning towards him in the feigned motions of sleep, offering him a better view while he did her paperwork.

He drank in the sight, and wished things weren't so damn complicated.


	2. Chapter 2

"MATSUMOTO!"

Matsumoto smiled and turned away, trying to maintain the illusion that she was sleeping. She had even set an old sake bottle next to her for added effect. She heard him pick it up and drop in the wastebasket, as responsible as ever, and felt the couch shift as he sat down. A hand on her shoulder pulled her back to him, and she focused, hard, on not giving away that she was awake. She had already made sure that no-one would be around for a little while, to give them some privacy.

His hands were in her hair first, (how romantic!) smoothing it out, moving it away from her face. She gave him serious points for that. She took careful care of it, but not one person in the last century had ever complimented her on her hair.

It was always about her breasts. She loved her body, and loved to show it off. But those were the only things men seemed to care about. Except for Hitsugaya, of course. He was probably the only man in all of Soul Society that would actually talk to her face.

He went to her jaw next, before sliding his fingertips down her neck, tracing the muscles under her skin.

So it came as an immense surprise to her when she felt a trembling hand settle on her shoulder all those months ago. Her first thought was that he was going to try to shake her awake. But he hadn't. When the hand had brushed over her cheek, she had smiled in her 'sleep' and imagined opening her eyes, to catch her naughty little captain in the act and see him flounder. She had been fully prepared to release Haineko and lay into him if his hands went any lower, but they didn't. Instead, she'd listened as he stood and staggered away, and she had pretended not know about it when she'd 'awoken' a few minutes later.

Across her collarbone. Going behind her neck, massaging gently. Back to her chest, dipping low before resisting temptation and flattening his palm against her cheek. A thumb brushed against her lips so very gently, and she fought to keep her face neutral, relaxed, and to resist the urge to close her lips around the wandering digit.

He had been so awkward the first time, and had blushed and stammered when she was around for days afterwards. It had been so deliciously cute, and she had teased him mercilessly for it. But she never said anything. After the second time, Matsumoto had realized just how infatuated he was with her…and how much he worked to control it. It was ironic, that a hormone driven young man, giving to stealing touches in her sleep was the one person in Soul Society she could have a decent conversation with. The third time was during two solid months of almost manic hollow activity, and she could tell the strain was taking a serious toll on him. So when the opportunity came as he fell asleep at his desk, and with most of the squad occupied, she had intentionally spread herself out for him, open and inviting, just as he had woken up. The effect on him had been clear.

The hand went lower, and Matsumoto felt the tremble of desire in his hand. It flattened and dug in, refusing to go any farther, literally or figuratively. He had such perfect hands, small and gentle but strong, giving off tiny sparks of cold that danced across her skin, stimulating and never painful. She imagined those hands going lower, just once, just **once, **and she couldn't resist a shiver at the thought, sighing inwardly as the hand suddenly disappeared.

As expected of her captain. Faking sleep or not, she knew he would never do anything so crude as sticking a hand inside her kimono while she was helpless. The first thing Hitsugaya often did was pull her uniform shut if it was too revealing. Her captain was a perfect gentleman, strong, mature, fair, someone that made her want to push herself to the limit for. She had even peeked in on him in the hot springs once, and spent the rest of the evening with pieces of tissue jammed up her nose to stop the bleeding.

She heard his sigh, the same sound he made after he separated himself form her, heard him sit down and bury himself in his work. She opened one eye to peek at her wonderful, beautiful, honorable, tormented captain, and shifted to give him a better view while he worked. She owed him that much, seeing the way he focused so intently on his work, how stern he had to be with himself, all the things he denied himself because his rank demanded it.

She could make a move on the best damn man in all of Soul Society, if she wanted to. She just wished things weren't so damned complicated.


End file.
